


Tangerine, Sugar, Honey, Sweet

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Come Swallowing, Creampie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: Taeyong wonders if Johnny would be willing, even if it’s been months since they last laid hands on each other. Months since Taeyong’s felt the need for it, months since Johnny had asked.He takes his phone and types out a quick message. Something simple.Come over?
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 39
Kudos: 350





	Tangerine, Sugar, Honey, Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taeyongseo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeyongseo/gifts).



> It has been so, so long since I last wrote Johnyong, but the [little bug bit me](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Ef9bUgYUEAUjmaH?format=jpg&name=large) and I knew I needed to ride the wave. 
> 
> For Carly, my love, one of my dearest friends on here. I hope you like this little piece of Taeyong and Johnny and home. <3

Being back in his room feels good for the first time in a long while. There was a period when it had stopped being somewhere he could rest and had started to feel like a sarcophagus, when the grueling schedules and the closed-door discussions about his case were overlapping, when every day’s close only meant a few hours of respite before he had to open his eyes to the reality of it again.

Taeyong’s lost count of how many weeks it’s been since he took a break, but he returns to his dorm room feeling fuller and lighter and more put-together than he has since the calendar started showing 2020. He’s glad to be home here, glad to be fresh from his shower, glad to strip his bed of the old covers and replace them with the 1000-thread count sheets his sister had insisted he take back with him. He’s glad that his plants have lived through his absence, no doubt tended to by Doyoung and Johnny.

Taeyong pauses in his movements, his hands stilling on the pillow he’d been pulling covers over. Johnny. Something— _someone_ —else he’s glad for.

He wonders if Johnny would be willing, even if it’s been months since they last laid hands on each other. Months since Taeyong’’s felt the need for it, months since Johnny had asked.

He takes his phone and types out a quick message. Something simple.

_Come over?_

It should be enough. If Johnny says yes, then good. If Johnny says no, then alright.

Taeyong locks his phone with minimal expectations and resumes putting the last of the covers on.

No reply comes for a while, but instead, a gentle knock on his door, twice then once then thrice, their own little secret code, though what he and Johnny get up to hardly counts as a secret, not when half of them all fool around with each other anyway.

“Come in,” Taeyong calls out, putting the last pillow aside.

The door cracks open, and Johnny pushes through it to lean on the door frame. He looks like he’s just woken up from a nap: sleep-soft and eyes warm as he looks at Taeyong. God, Taeyong’s missed that look.

“Hey, Yongie,” Johnny says softly, before pushing off and closing the door.

He locks it behind him.

“Hi,” Taeyong replies, seated at the edge of his bed, knees spread as Johnny takes a tentative step between them. Johnny towers over him, always has, and it feels like a comfort. “I know it’s been a while but—”

“You know I’m always just waiting for you,” Johnny whispers.

Johnny’s hand is warm where it cups Taeyong’s jaw, his thumb pressing over the soft of Taeyong’s bottom lip. He runs his hands over Johnny’s clothed thighs, the grey sweats smooth under his palm. There’s more muscle there than there used to be, Taeyong thinks. His mouth fills with saliva at the thought of what Johnny’s body must look like under all these loose layers now.

Johnny brings himself to his knees, brings himself at eye-level with Taeyong, and Taeyong sighs as he leans forward, gently knocking his forehead against Johnny’s, his hand curling over Johnny’s shoulder to ground him.

“Tell me what you want, Yong,” Johnny says in the space between their breaths. “I’ll do anything.”

“Mmmm,” Taeyong replies, pulling back and pretending to give it some thought, as if he hadn’t texted Johnny with a plan fully formed in his head.

“I want you to kiss me, and blow me, and finger me, and then,” Taeyong leans in to lick along the shell of Johnny’s ear, the taste of copper in his mouth as he bites down and takes Johnny’s earring into his mouth briefly before letting go. “Then you’re going to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Johnny mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath, and looks Taeyong in the eye. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good boy,” Taeyong replies, before Johnny cuts him off and takes Taeyong’s lips in his.

Kissing Johnny has always felt like this: overwhelming, like the ground opens up to swallow him, like an ocean that races to submerge him.

Taeyong feels Johnny’s tongue tracing along the seam of his lips and opens up, the rough tip licking behind Taeyong’s teeth, Johnny biting down on his upper lip light enough to elicit a moan from Taeyong.

Johnny pulls his full height while they kiss, pulling Taeyong in closer by gripping on both Taeyong’s thighs, and Taeyong can feel his crotch rub up against Johnny’s taught belly.

It’s been much too long since the last time they did this, and Johnny’s changes are solid beneath his hands. He cups Johnny’s jaw to hold him in place, chasing every breath with another kiss, and Taeyong feels it everywhere. Johny kisses him on the mouth and Taeyong feels it on his chest, on the inside of his thighs, on his cock.

There are hands on his hips, gently stroking the bones that jut out there with thumbs as Taeyong feels himself fill steadily with blood, rubbing against Johnny’s abdomen to get some semblance of friction.

“Missed you,” Johnny says in hot whispers against his lips. “Missed you so much, baby.”

Taeyong rewards him with a bite to his jaw, and Johnny tips his head back to give him better access. There are no schedules tomorrow or the next day, a blessed effect of the shitty circumstances that keep them land-locked in South Korea. Taeyong can have his fun.

“I missed you too,” Taeyong says, and it’s true. It had been hard to muster up the will or the want to mess around with anyone before he’d taken his break.

The last time had been with Doyoung, a rushed blowjob that had left him feeling more wrung out than anything else. There was a lot of healing he had to do. He likes to think that this hunger coursing through his veins now is a happy return to equilibrium.

“Off,” Johnny says, tugging at Taeyong’s shorts before pulling back so Taeyong can close his legs and lift his hips while Johnny drags them down and discards them off to the side.

Taeyong’s already hard, his cock sitting heavy between his thighs before Johnny pries them open again, his eyes locked on it like he’s seeing an epiphany.

“You,” Johnny says reverently, and it makes Taeyong laugh, makes him throw his head back and reach out to bury his fingers in Johnny’s auburn hair. “I missed _you_.”

“Stop talking to my cock and start blowing it, Youngho,” Taeyong says, his voice full of mirth, before it gets cut off, choked out instead as Johnny dips his head and takes Taeyong fully in his mouth in one swallow. Taeyong’s fingers tighten in Johnny’s head. “Fuck, fuck, Johnny—”

The vibration from Johnny’s voice makes Taeyong’s jaw hang open, the wet warmth of Johnny’s mouth enveloping him completely as he bobs his head up and down agonizingly slow, the velvet of his tongue absolutely sinful against the sensitive skin of Taeyong’s cock.

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, like that,” Taeyong mutters, leaning back on his hands and spreading his knees apart to give Johnny more space to move, space to work, and space for him to enjoy the view of his cock disappearing into Johnny’s mouth. “Look at me.”

And Johnny does, and it’s devastating, his eyes dark and glittering in the low light emanating from Taeyong’s lamp at the far end of the room.

It’s always a marvel to Taeyong, seeing Johnny like this, on his knees and subservient to him whenever he asks, whenever he’s in a mood, whenever he feels like he needs to be taken care of in ways that Doyoung and Yuta aren’t capable of doing. They’re all special to him, but Johnny is different.

Johnny is always eager to please, always intuitive about what Taeyong wants, always puts a premium on Taeyong’s pleasure before his own. Johnny gives Taeyong something that feeds him and sustains him for days, and it’s part of why he loves him so much—Johnny understands everything that Taeyong needs, even the things outside of the confines of their bedrooms.

Taeyong’s mind clouds with a building heat, Johnny’s hand a loose circle around his shaft as he takes one of Taeyong’s balls into his mouth and sucks, and after a few moments, tonguing at his taint.

“Look at you, Johnny,” Taeyong whispers, his hips torquing up as he starts to fuck Johnny’s mouth. “Made for me.”

Johnny’s eyes slide closed, another moan running through him, making Taeyong hiss and fuck up, and Johnny gags, pulling back. Taeyong has an apology on his lips but before he can get it out, Johnny takes a breath and willingly chokes on it again and again.

There are tears in Johnny’s eyes and Taeyong feels drunk on it, drunk on the fact that he can bring Johnny to this as Johnny bring him closer to the edge. His chest feels like it’s about to cave in, his thighs straining under Johnny’s hands that keep them pried apart despite him wanting to close them, to clench tight around something, _anything._

“I’m gonna come,” Taeyong says, breathless as he balances with one hand, gripping Johnny’s hair tight in the other.

“So come,” Johnny says after pulling off, jacking Taeyong’s cock quickly, and it’s enough for Taeyong to let go, his release spilling onto Johnny’s waiting mouth that he holds open. Taeyong shudders as Johnny works him, catching his cum on his tongue, and it’s so obscene, watching it slide down, pool in Johnny’s mouth as he holds it there for Taeyong’s inspection.

Taeyong sees stars before he can focus back on Johnny, who is waiting for the next order.

“Swallow,” Taeyong says, and Johnny closes his mouth and does just that, before leaning in to kiss him again. The salt and bitterness graze across his tongue and Johnny pulls him in closer, closer, Taeyong’s spent cock sensitive against Johnny’s shirt.

Taeyong bunches the fabric of Johnny’s shirt in his hands, and pulls up, up, over Johnny’s head, and oh, there it is, the tattoo Ten had designed for him in all its glory, vines that curl under his clavicle and over his bicep. Muscle, defined in ways it didn’t use to be when Taeyong had last had Johnny under him, ripples under his hands as he takes Johnny in.

“Come on, you too,” Johnny says softly, tugging Taeyong’s shirt off as well, tossing the oversized white garment off with the rest of their clothing.

Taeyong scoots back on the bed, back against his new sheets and his mountain of pillows, and Johnny rises, finally, groaning as his knees lose the pressure of the last half hour.

Taeyong watches as the joggers come off, tracing his eyes over Johnny’s pectorals, over the ridges of his abdomen that, while softer now than they had been during Kick It promotions when Johnny had been cutting calories for the sake of definition, are still prominent enough that Taeyong feels his cock give a weak twitch, even as it rests, soft, against the crease of his thigh.

Johnny is rock hard, his cock jutting out in the middle of the neat thatch of wiry black hair that he keeps trimmed there, and Taeyong half-wishes that he’d had the foresight to prep himself earlier if only to impale himself on it faster, but part of the fun is this: Johnny raking his eyes over Taeyong’s body, a gaze that he feels from head to toe.

Johnny climbs over him, bracing himself on his outstretched arms while Taeyong accommodates him between his legs.

“These are new sheets,” Taeyong says lightly. “Really expensive ones.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Johnny replies, lowering himself to whisper against Taeyong’s lips. “I won’t make too much of a mess.”

Taeyong takes in the smile on Johnny’s face, the mischief in his eyes, and surges up, feeling electricity course through his nerves as he brings Johnny’s hips and torso flush against his.

Fucking Johnny is never always just fucking, not with the relationship they have, always on the border of something more, something all-consuming, like the lick of flames or the steady crawl of lava. His kiss is searing, his touch sure and steady. Johnny knows his body, knows Taeyong, and he is exactly who Taeyong needs right now, in this space that exists solely for the two of them.

Johnny reaches for the bottle of lube overhead, and after pressing butterfly kisses to Taeyong’s clavicles, over his Adam’s apple, he pulls back to sit on his haunches, Taeyong’s legs falling open before he brings his knees to his chest.

“God,” Johnny says in wonder. “I wish you could see yourself like this. Fucking perfect.”

Taeyong knows—knows how good he looks, spread open like this, knows that he’s enough to render Johnny speechless. He’s grateful that the break has reminded Taeyong of all the parts of himself that are beautiful, and believe it. That he can listen to _Johnny_ say this, and believe it.

Johnny slicks his fingers up carefully, no doubt worried about the threat of Taeyong possibly kicking him out if he makes a mess, though if Taeyong is honest, he’ll take the mess if it means losing himself in Johnny tonight.

“Hurry,” Taeyong sighs. “I want you.”

Johnny takes one hand to the inside of Taeyong’s thigh, warm at their points of contact, and traces the rim of Taeyong’s entrance with the other, only just rubbing the lube onto the puckered hole and making Taeyong take a sharp breath.

Taeyong can see Johnny’s cock twitching from neglect when he peers between his legs, and he wills himself to relax as Johnny’s finger breaches him slowly, allowing his body to take the intrusion, reminding himself that this is familiar, that this is _Johnny_ , and that soon, very soon, Johnny will be sliding home into him.

Taeyong feels like he’s swimming in warm water, the way Johnny’s breath ghosts over him, the way Johnny lifts his leg up to rest over his shoulder, kissing along his calf, along his shin, on the bony jut of his ankle while he works a second finger into Taeyong. He sighs as he feels Johnny scissor him open, spreading him out and pushing in deeper until—

“Oh, oh fuck,” Taeyong groans, his leg tensing as Johnny’s fingers press against his prostate, and Taeyong’s cock begins to fill with blood again. “Fuck, Johnny, yes—”

“There you go,” Johnny says, leaning in for another kiss, and Taeyong is burning up despite the AC blasting on high above them, his entire body sings, bows off the mattress as Johnny spreads his fingers more, more. “Just like that for me, baby. Just like that.” Johnny’s tongue traces a path down Taeyong’s neck before he bites down, pulls at skin bordering on pain.

Taeyong’s eyes slip closed as Johnny adds a third finger, and he’s so ready, he’s ready to be filled up and pushed over the edge, but this is part of what Johnny does, draws it out, fingers fucking in and out of him in a slow rhythm as he gets Taeyong ready and gaping.

“Missed you so much,” Johnny whispers before taking Taeyong’s nipple into his mouth.

Pleasure is always so potent when he’s in Johnny’s arms, when Johnny presses every button there is on Taeyong’s body that he knows will make him cry out, reach out for Johnny, hold him close.

“I’m ready, Youngho,” Taeyong whispers. “I’m ready, hurry, please, I need you.”

There’s a click of the bottle, the slick sound of the lube in Johnny’s hand as he coats his cock with it, and the groan from above Taeyong as Johnny holds himself steady and pushes in.

He blinks through the burn of it, biting into his lower lips as Johnny slides in slowly, giving Taeyong time to accommodate him, and God, this is it, this is everything Taeyong’s needed, feels himself come together and lift up as Johnny holds his leg close to his chest and bottoms out, his hips flush against Taeyong’s, lips parted as he throws his head back and shudders.

There are a few seconds in which their breathing slows, and Johnny lowers Taeyong’s leg gently before using both his hands to hook under Taeyong’s ass and haul him in closer, and Taeyong sees fucking stars, sees white and then dark and then an explosion of comets behind his eyes as Johnny pulls out and then fucks in, and the burn gives way to rapture.

Johnny holds him close, and as he picks his pace up, Taeyong rakes his hands across Johnny’s back, making him hiss in pain.

“ _Yong_ —fuck, your nails,” Johnny says, breathless and dazed. Taeyong knows his nails are too long, but this is nothing new.

“Harder, please,” is all Taeyong says, and Johnny guides Taeyong’s legs around his hips, driving in harder as requested.

Taeyong feels himself unravel, losing himself in the feeling of Johnny’s cock stretching him open over and over, burning his fingers in the hair that smells like peppermint and pulling on it to get Johnny to kiss him.

“I love you,” Taeyong says, the heat between them now at fever pitch. “I love you, I love this.”

“I love you,” Johnny replies, and the words seep into Taeyong’s mouth like candy, melting on his tongue, the sweetness of the sentiment like lifeblood to him. Johnny fucks into him and Taeyong feels more _whole,_ like he’s complete alone but better with Johnny, better with this.

Taeyong’s legs quiver from every thrust into him, and he feels his jaw go slack, his eyes rolling back and sliding shut from how deeply Johnny pushes in, every jolt of pleasure and heat worth it when Johnny’s cock hits his prostate again and again.

There are hands everywhere on his body, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of Taeyong’s bicep, Johnny sucking on the skin over Taeyong’s clavicle while Taeyong scratches down the vast expanse of Johnny’s back, gripping the back of Johnny’s neck, pulling on his hair.

Johnny works his cock inside Taeyong and Taeyong feels like he sees God, and he’s in freefall, head thrown back as his now-turgid cock slides between their bellies, the wetness of his precum slicking the way. He’s going to come for the second time tonight and that’s exactly how he likes it, exactly how Johnny wants him, the pair of them crying out between their bodies, hurried kisses and muttered patitudes, “I love you, I love your cock so fucking much,” and, “So fucking good, Yongie, so fucking good.”

Taeyong is a livewire, an exposed nerve, lit up from inside as Johnny ploughs into him, as he holds Johnny impossibly close, hips losing their rhythm as Johnny climbs closer and closer to climax, and he’s going, going, gone, his cum spilling between the two of their bodies, white ropes painted across Taeyong’s chest and his belly, and Johnny has his hands on Taeyong’s thighs, shaking on either side of his torso, clamping down as Taeyong rides through waves after wave.

Johnny comes with a yell, one that no doubt the entire floor will hear, not that it matters, not when Taeyong’s chest is heaving and he can feel how deep Johnny holds himself, fills him up hot and messy and endless from how he holds himself over Taeyong, who kisses Johnny’s face, soft, soft, every gentle press a counterpoint to the frantic fucking from just seconds ago.

Johnny remains inside Taeyong, and Taeyong wraps his legs around Johnny, wanting to keep his cum there, wanting to stay like this all night if they could, just connected this way until Johnny gets hard again and he can fill Taeyong up some more.

Taeyong closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of Johnny, the peppermint and the gentle, earthy smell Johnny’s body odor and his sweat.

“Welcome home, baby,” Johnny whispers, peppering kisses over Taeyong’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose before Johnny slowly pulls out.

“Mmm,” Taeyong replies, smiling with his eyes closed. His body feels boneless, like he sinks into his mattress, the smooth cotton sheets— “Ah, Johnny, my sheets!”

It’s too late. He can feel Johnny’s cum leak out of him and onto the mattress, and Johnny laughs, reaching over the bed quickly to shove Taeyong’s shirt under his ass. “I got it, I got it,” Johnny says reassuringly. “God, two mind-blowing orgasms and that’s what you’ve got to say.”

There’s no heat to his words, just fond exasperation. Johnny moves back closer to Taeyong, and he admires his handiwork, traces his eyes over the angry welts he’d left in Johnny’s back from scratching him up. Doyoung will have something to say about this in the morning, no doubt.

Johnny lies down next to him, having fished his phone from his pants, fiddling with the screen. Taeyong relaxes, stretches out, his entire body sated and sore, before wrapping himself over Johnny, slipping his thigh between Johnny's and burying his face in Johnny’s neck. He mumbles, "Love you," and Johnny hums it back.

Johnny’s quiet, and Taeyong is content to just lie there and breathe him in. Taeyong knows that this peace is temporary—SuperM promotions will begin again soon, and after that, another album. Life never really, truly slows down for them, but in the madness of all of it, in the crashing waves of their day-to-day, Taeyong rests easy.

His room is filled with light again, and on his bed, Taeyong holds on to his anchor. All six feet, two inches of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [my carrd, made by the lovely Erin.](https://t.co/Nm5AvDvn2U)


End file.
